Page 29 - The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

8 ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

pride. I, who had thought so well of myself and my
abilities, of my capacity to surmount obstacles, was
cornered at last. Now I was to plunge into the dark,
joining that endless procession of sots who had gone
on before. I thought of my poor wife. There had been
much happiness after all. What would I not give to
make amends. But that was over now.
No words can tell of the loneliness and despair I
found in that bitter morass of self-pity. Quicksand
stretched around me in all directions. I had met my
match. I had been overwhelmed. Alcohol was my
master.
Trembling, I stepped from the hospital a broken
man. Fear sobered me for a bit. Then came the insidi-
ous insanity of that first drink, and on Armistice Day
1934, I was off again. Everyone became resigned to
the certainty that I would have to be shut up some-
where, or would stumble along to a miserable end.
How dark it is before the dawn! In reality that was
the beginning of my last debauch. I was soon to be
catapulted into what I like to call the fourth dimension
of existence. I was to know happiness, peace, and
usefulness, in a way of life that is incredibly more
wonderful as time passes.
Near the end of that bleak November, I sat drinking
in my kitchen. With a certain satisfaction I reflected
there was enough gin concealed about the house to
carry me through that night and the next day. My
wife was at work. I wondered whether I dared hide a
full bottle of gin near the head of our bed. I would
need it before daylight.
My musing was interrupted by the telephone. The
cheery voice of an old school friend asked if he might